Ultraviolet OneShot
by soundfanatic
Summary: I need to get out of here. His presence is suffocating me. The worst part is that I like it. How did I get mixed up in this? Wait, I know exactly how.


I've been listening to "Ultraviolet" on repeat for about two hours because I'm obsessed. This is short little one-shot is what happens when inspiration hits. WARNING: This is slightly angsty and depressing.

I own nothing.

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**Ultraviolet**

I need to get out of here. His presence is suffocating me. The worst part is that I like it. How did I get mixed up in this? Wait, I know _exactly_ how. I won that fucking competition. It all started at the exact moment the votes were cast naming me as the winner of that damn contract. I hate it. I fucking hate it. No I don't. I don't hate it at all. Otherwise I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be in this same damn situation that seems to be repeating over and over _and over_. He does something unforgivable and then I forgive him. Why? Because I fucking love the bastard.

I can't help it. I'm addicted. I'm addicted to him. He's like this drug that once you get a taste of it, you're hooked and there's nothing you can do to quit. I'm sorry, but they don't make patches or chewing gum for killing your addiction to Tom Quincy's. Or maybe they do, knowing his track record. I wonder what chemicals they'd use to get rid of this kind of habit. I wonder how they would get rid of the memories, the feel of his calloused hands on my skin, the scent of him, or even the way my heart would stop beating every damn time he looked at me.

The point is: I fell, and I fell _hard_. I should have known to run the hell away. I should have known he was bad news. I mean, look at all of the broken hearts he's left in a trail behind him. Maybe that's why I jumped into him, into this. I wanted to get burned by the intensity of his eyes, his voice, his heat. Does that make me a masochist? You bet your ass it does.

I saw the signs. I heard the alarm. I smelled the smoke. I felt the fire.

I stayed anyway. I'm a fucking idiot. Hell, I was an idiot in love. Why else would I have let him treat me like shit for so long? Why try to fight in a battle that I knew wouldn't win? I would always give myself to him. I would surrender everything I had, everything I was, to his sweet wrath.

Now we're both sitting across from each other. His piercing blue eyes are working their way through all of my anger and resentment. He's whispering my name, "Jude." It's poison from his lips. "Please forgive me."

I won't. I can't. But I will. I always will.

His voice breaks me, one syllable at a time. It breaks down everything I've tried so fucking hard to keep up. I feel the defenses crumble. I feel the smarting tears course their way down my face. I feel his hands reach for mine and the inevitable heat.

I can't look into the depths of my pain any longer. I close my burning eyes. I manage to croak out, "Don't do this to me."

But he has and he is. He's making it impossible to say 'no'. I try anyway, but the word doesn't make it past my throat. Instead, a strangled sob pushes past my lips.

My chest hurts and my skin is blazing from the close proximity of him. I curse my body for betraying my will. He still has his power over me and I fear he always will. But I know in the back of my mind that I want him to control me forever. I want to be his forever. I always have. So I give in. I look into his crystalline weapons of choice.

I break. I reach for him and pull him to me. We hold onto each other with such fierce intensity that I can barely breathe. He wraps himself around me and I drown in the familiar feel. I bury my head into the heat radiating from his chest. I remind myself once again of what I'm doing, what I'm getting myself into.

His voice is muffled by my neck. "I'm so sorry, so sorry." He unleashes one searing kiss on my tender skin and I melt.

All hell breaks loose. Clothes are violently ripped off. Bruising kisses are consuming us. Unable to restrain ourselves, we join. I am complete once again. There is nothing separating us. We are one. The world is right. The fire has burned itself into ice. Time has frozen for the both of us. And after the ice has melted away, after the smoke has cleared, all I see is him. I see flesh, and I see what that flesh is capable of making me do.

His eyes are closed in the afterglow of our combustion. His lids shield me momentarily from his spell. I sober once more, instantly missing the high. I know that now is my time to move or forever be stuck against him. Getting up, I redress myself and leave. I crave him again as withdrawal grips me. I need to keep moving. My skin aches from the loss of heat.

I try everything that crosses me to get rid of the agonizing need for him. I know what I need to do. There is only one way out. In my madness, I walk to the roof of his apartment building. I step up to the ledge and see the glowing lights of the city. I know it would be beautiful if I could see through the tears that are resurfacing. The wind pricks my flesh in icy stabs. And for the first time in four years, I feel free.


End file.
